


Reminiscing Over (Our) Lost Things

by muffinlaurens_cinnamonlance



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Feels, Forgive Me, Gay, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Suicide, also straight, probably oneshot, trigger warning watch out please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9978257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinlaurens_cinnamonlance/pseuds/muffinlaurens_cinnamonlance
Summary: To Alex, John is no longer his muse.  To John, Alex is everything. Was everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Intentional Suicide, Major Charcater Death

John's blank eyes stared at the bare wall, shifting in and out of focus each time he blinked, and even that seemed tedious. His stiff fingers curled tightly into the cold white sheets, and even though his hands were turning white, he didn't dare let go, afraid that if he did he would drift away. The freckles splattered across his cheeks contrasted horribly with the pale skin underneath. He figured that if Laf had seen him now, he would bother him about more self-care and tsk tsk tsk him up, giving him that dissapointed stare that always seemed to tear the Southern man apart. For a fleeting moment the young man wished the Frenchman was there with Herc, hugging him and giving him temporary warmth. Then he let the wish go.

_He didn't care._

He finally released the sheets, a little disappointed when he realized that, no, he wasn't floating away at all, just sitting like a dead rock on the covers of his empty bed. The quiet hum of his fan sounded from across the room, but he couldn't bother to turn it off. His head ached, on the inside and out. He missed the familiar feeling of skilled fingers stroking through his chocolate curls in the night, lulling him to sleep with their soothing pattern. He missed the warmth of a body next to his on cold nights, which was almost every one since the crummy heater Alex owned never really worked to do much other than to create noise in the background, (that John could never focus on because he was too caught up in Alex), and a reason for the two to become tangle of limbs, combating the temperature with meaningful, warm touches.

Now John used the cold as a reminder of what his life had once been, and to hold on to the memory of nights under the stars with the man's strong arms holding him against his chest, how he used to listen to the heartbeats and quiet breaths that calmed his own.

_He couldn't breathe._

It felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, pinning him down even when he tried to get up. Even when he was sick of thinking of the mischievous smile and inky black eyes that twinkled meticulously when staring into his own gold flecked orbs. Even when he hated remembering how he used to lift the corner of his mouth and smirk, then move in closer to whisper a hushed "I love you" in cherry red ears.

John couldn't believe how naïve he must've been in the dark night between the sheets when he'd given Alex his everything, but still felt whole because he'd thought Alex had given him his everything, too.  (and that was more than enough to fill him with joy.)

_Now he was nothing._

He remembered the flowery texts that he'd embellished so much, smiling at them happily with tears in his eyes as he realized that this was for him. In the life that he lived with things that never belonged to him, Alex was his. The way Alex held him when John could finally pull the weight off of his chest and admit that yes, he did have anxiety, and yes, he was the son of all famous Senator Henry Laurens, who'd always been a burden through his lifetime because of his views. And how Alex just smiled and pulled him in, saying that he already knew. And then, John couldn't give less of a fuck about his dad anymore.

He could never express how good it felt to be understood by somebody, to spend so much time in such a small space with another human, enough to memorize their actions, or their sentence formation patterns, or the exact curls of their handwriting. Enough to feel safe, even when they did act suspicious or standoffish, or start to talk differently, or when their handwriting's curls started to become more uniform. 

_There was a shift._

When Alex came home after college classes, he usually went to the table and wrote. He barely acknowledged the young South Carolinian man when he sat down, and he started to seem more occupied with his phone instead of with his boyfriend. He left John craving for some kind of touch, some kind of reassurance, because he was no longer sure that Alex was giving him his everything. But when Alex kissed the hidden places of his body and tugged at his curled hair, he felt whole again, even if just for a bit, trying to ignore that he no longer saw a shining in the inky eyes but the clouded glint of lust. 

When his need for touch got too bad, and he could no longer get by with love-bites and sucking, he would drive to Lafayette's apartment, which was always warm and light, and get smooshed between him and his boyfriend, Herc, to watch an old movie. It didn't make him whole, but he felt warm again. And afterwards he would stalk back to the cold and dark apartment, frowning in disappointment when all he got in response to his daily goodnight kiss was a groan. 

 _Things were different now_.

Alex almost never came home until well past 8:00, but John never pestered him about it; just smiled softly and shook his head, because it was fine, as long as he was still here. As long as, even just once in a while, he could smell the familiar scent of the Old Spice deodorant Alex used (because he had always been obsessed with old things, and even though it was barely that Alex still called it "vintage") and vanilla bean coffee from Dunkin Donuts ("because Starbucks was so corrupt!")

Sometimes John's sleep would be interrupted by hushed talking in the bathroom, and he felt his heart deflate a little as he realized Alex and his phone was gone, the steady heartbeat that he'd cherished so close yet so far away. He forced himself back to sleep most of the time, feeling as if he was no longer enough, because if he was Alex would still be here.

_He saw it coming._

When he'd gotten the panicked phone call from Lafayette, all he could pick out were three words, but they were enough. "Caught", "Alexander", and "Eliza." He felt a headache bloom in his head, but he wasn't overwrought; just overwhelmed. He'd never seen Eliza as a threat. She was sweet and kind, and especially modest in clothing for a young woman. She had warm eyes and a laughter always filled to the brim with the most sincere mirth.

When John's eyes had first accidentally gotten sight of the text on Alex' phone from her, he pushed the unease aside, averting his gaze back up to the television. But when the texts became more frequent, his anxiety grew, and day by day he realized suddenly, appallingly that he was losing Alex. And now this. He wasnt ready. No longer did the other give him love filled gazes. Now they were cold and hard, and filled with nothing but calculation. He saw how Alex' eyes lit up when he got another text from her. Did they ever do that with him? 

_He had began to brace himself._

A few days after the phone call when Alex came home nervous and shifting from foot to foot John just knew it was happening. "John," he had started quietly, like somebody else might hear them, like he might realize himself just how crazy he sounded. John didn't dare look up in fear that he may break down right then and there. 

"I don't know how to explain this." There was a pregnant pause and the freckled man wondered if he should say something. "But I think I should just say it and get it over with." John shut his eyes. Get over with him. The light hurt.

"I don't think... I don't think we're good for each other anymore." John had foreseen it coming, but the words still felt like a heavy blow to his stomach, and he took a deep gasp of air. "I think I need to leave." Warm tears materialized in his shut eyes, and he squeezed his hands so they would stop shaking.

John had always been selfless, or at least that's what people had said. Back in High School when John Adams and Thomas had a fight after the Senior year celebration he'd said that he started it so they wouldn't be suspended. It didn't work, but at least helped their punishment. That desicion had been fairly easy. But this one seemed more than impossible. How could he let go of somebody that made him feel so safe?

_He had to do what was best for Alexander. That's all that mattered now._

"Do you love her?" He breathed, and he felt Alex' feet shift. "W-What?"

"Eliza. Do you love her?" There was hush in the room before Alex finally hacked out an answer. "Yes. Very much."  John gave a sad smile and opened his tearful eyes, nodding his head. "I can tell. You never looked at me that way. And you're always texting her."

Alex eyes widened as if he'd made a mistake. He had, of course, but it wasn't because he had hurt John. John didn't mind that, not if it made him happier than he was. At least he told himself that.

The only thing that angered the usually cool man was that he couldn't admit his feelings. "No, I just-" 

_It was the hardest thing he'd ever done._

"It's okay, Alex." And Alex' shoulders slumped, and his eyes became blank and dejected once again. How could he expect John to put up a fight? He stared at John, lost and needy and John winced before giving an encouraging smile. He remembered to crinkle his eyes, because he recalled how much Alex had adored his crinkly eyes, and Alex finally relented. "I'm sorry."

That was John's cue to stand, gnawing on the inside of his cheek to keep his stone composure steady. He walked past Alex and into the room that had always appeared warm and light but now seemed cold and dark. He grabbed his old bag from the closet, that he'd never thought he'd have to use unless it was for traveling, and emptied the contents of his side of the drawers into it. Then, on a second thought he slipped in Alex' old and worn green sweatshirt. _Made in the Caribbean._ Sliding into the small bathroom, he grabbed the container of the Old Spice, slipping it into the flannel side pocket on the bag. 

_He remembered the last time they spoke._

He walked outside, holding the duffel to his chest that was trying desperately not to heave up and down at a rapid pace. They faced each other quietly, and Alex looked desperate, eyebrows knitted together in regret. He opened his mouth multiple times, but closed it as if rethinking his sentence. "I have something for you," he finally whispered, and from behind his back his arm extended towards John.

Clutched in his hand was a small teddy bear, and only then did John feel the warm tears fall from his eyes, sudden and quick.

He took the stuffed animal, holding it loosely in his hands, and started sobbing. The gift he had given to him for the Valentine's Day from last year seemed like such a waste now. "Y-Y ou don't want it anymore?" Alex looked away, painfully, and John let out another choked sob that came too quickly to stop. Alex finally looked back up and stretched out a hand to cup John's splotched cheek. "Please don't cry, baby bo-"

_"Don't."_

The nickname seemed so wrong now, and he couldn't bare to be there any longer, not with him, not in the small room that had once been 'cozy' and now seemed crowded. He slipped on his shoes, not glancing back to look at Alex because he knew he wouldn't able to go again if he did, and clutched the bag to his chest, along with the teddy bear, a final confirmation that Alex no longer wanted the part of himself John had given him. He grabbed his key chain, yanking the apartment key off, and opened the door. "Goodbye, Alex."

And he turned up at Lafayette's house that night, drunk to an unhealthy level and soaked in the rain he had used to feel grounded again. 

_He never felt the same._

Ever since his Senior year, Alex had been his lifeline. In a family that hated him, with a dad that bruised him on his skin and in his mind, in a mom that was a shamed of him and sisters and brothers that avoided him, Alex was there for him; Alex was his best friend, Alex wouldn't leave. Alex gave him hugs that made him feel okay. They chose the same colleges, because that was what friends did and they couldn't bare being apart. They bought a small apartment together to become roommates, and one night they kissed and it was history from there. But now Alex was gone.

_History makes mistakes._

The days after that day were always cold. He'd bought an apartment, and even though he had more than enough money from his father, he chose the smallest one he could find, trying to recreate the snug feeling of Alex' own apartment. Thinking about it made him feel queasy, knowing that next to Alex, his Alex, was now Eliza, taking up the space in the couch that he had so proudly claimed to Laf a year ago was reserved for him and him only.

He spent his days looking through the flowery letters and texts Alex had once sent him, and asking himself where he went wrong, where he had failed to show his undying love that used to hurt his chest, because even his heart knew, almost as well as his brain, that it only pumped blood for Alex, and Alex only. Now it pumped for nobody.

_He couldn't eat, he couldn't dream._

All of it felt meaningless without his smile, his laugh, his eyes, his warmth, his touch, his being. Lafayette always told him to come over and hang out with him, so sometimes he accepted the offer and at blankly on the couch. But it's not like he could feel a connection. He couldn't feel at all. All he felt was the cold. All he felt was the hurt.

And one night, it all hit him, and the cold was too numbing, and the pain was too much, and the quiet was too loud, and his hands were too shaky and it was getting hard to breathe and the weight on his chest was too hard, too much. He sobbed into the blanket and ground his teeth and wailed as loud as he could, but nothing helped. After hesitation, he grabbed his phone, cursing as his hands started to shake, throwing him off as he typed in the number he had memorized and tucked away in his brain long ago.

_alex, please respond_

**Who is this? I got a new phone, but yes this is Alex. Got that number transfer thingy! Cool, amirite? iPhone 6, by the way!**

John sobbed, covering his mouth and smiling sadly. Still the same old Alex. He felt the guilt overwhelm him, like a wave washing over his body and knocking him down. He couldn't believe this.

_ im sorry, lex _

**What are you talking about? Who is this?**

John squeezed his eyes shut, sitting up and walking to the kitchen. He reached up to the liquor cabinet, bringing out a half empty bottle of golden whiskey, smiling like it was a treasure, and then reached up for the bottle of Ambien that his doctor had given him without hesitation, because "You're always so happy and sweet, and you deserve sleep. I know you wouldn't ever try to overdose", that he'd been storing over the month. 40 tablets in all, more than enough for a lethal dose along with his liquor. His hands were shakier then ever now, and clammy, and his face was ashen and his eyes were wide, because he was horrified.

_He was terrified of himself._

Was he really doing this?

He gripped his phone,  but he opened the bottle anyways.

 _i"m sorury_ ,

His shaking hands made it impossible to type normally.

**John?!!! You're the only one I know who texts like that. What's going on? Are you in trouble?**

John finally decided that he was ready, and he tossed his head back and quickly swallowed 29 of the sour pills, taking swigs of the burning drink in between. He didn't want to leave any reaction time for his brain to respond, using its rationality and making him realize that this wasn't the solution.

_He never meant for this._

_ i lov you, lex _

The response he got was instant. His heart swelled, maybe for the last time in his life, because at least he responded.

**John, are you okay?**

_ i'll be okay, babe. _

**John, you know I'm with Liza.**

_sorry_

**Just... Make sure to text me in the morning, okay? Sleep well.**

_ wait don laeve _

Johns vision starts to blur, and he doesn't know if it was because of the multiple tears streaming down his face or the alcohol starting to kick in. All he feels is desperation because he needs Alex. A headache blooms near the back of his temples, but he doesn't wince. As long as Alex is here, he's okay.

_He wasn't okay._

**John, Eliza's waiting....**

_pleas **,** onltfor a litlebiy_

**John, why are you texting so weird?**

John stumbled to the couch in his Living Room, inhaling a deep sniff of the green sweatshirt he had on and sighing in troubled content. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and he took a few seconds to respond. His thoughts started to blur together, but he remembered one constant thought through it all that kept jabbing at his consciousness. 

_Needing Alex._

_ i mis u lex _

**John, what is happening?!?!**

_remember when we use to snugl on tye couuch_

**I'm calling the police if you don't say you're okay.**

_He had never been okay after Alex._

_ i am, just sta a lil while lonjer  _

**You're not making any sense, John.**

_ i always loved you, lex _

**I know, John.**

_But he would never know the nights where the world seemed like it was ending._

_ you were so good to me _

**John...**

_ please just say you love me _

_He no longer had a world._

**John!**

_ ome nore time _

_ please _

**...**

**Fine.**

**I love you, John. Happy, now?**

John smiled a tired smile and sunk back into the couch. It almost felt like an embrace, and it was enough for him.

_ yes _

_His eyes fluttered closed._

**Are you good now? Okay enough to sleep??**

**John?**

**JOHN?!**

_Nothing would ever be okay again._

**Answer me or I'm calling Laf to check up on you.**

**RIGHT NOW JOHN!**

**I'm calling the police**!

**Please**

John vaguely felt the phone buzzing next to him, but no longer cared. He could barely even think about Alex, because everything behind his eyelids was warm and soft now, and it didn't make sense, because without Alex nothing was ever warm or soft. His headache was almost unbearable, even as his nerves blocked most of the pain. His smile fell, and his tears stopped, and his weak brain sent one more mental note to Alex of how sorry he was because he'd left him now.

_He'd left his world._

**• • •**

 

 _**John Laurens, rebellious son of Senator H. Laurens of South Carolina found dead in his one room apartment. The c** **ause of death is thought to be intentional suicide. He was found wearing an unfamiliar**   _ **_ sweatshirt, with the phrase 'Mad in the Caribbean'  written on the left side pocket. "We've never been to the Caribbean," his mother, Eleanor Ball Laurens states_ _between tears when brought in for questioning. _ **

**• • •**

_Alex felt guilty._

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me please this is my first angst fanfic maybe more of a blob of ideas but im just as shook ,,, this is a common lams theme and i wanted to try it out


End file.
